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Yuzuko Jul 14
I am not sure yet
is life even worth living
it just seems pointless
Life has given up on me... and me on it...
Its lossing a will
or am I?
Maria Etre Jul 7
For a person who lets go
with every line
the hardest part is to let go
of your idea
Jeremy Betts Jun 5
I yearn for a chain of moments to be myself
By myself
Just me and no one else
Why then do I put those thoughts in a jar
With no air holes
On an out of reach shelf?
And expect it not to
Affect my mental health
Solitary has it's value
While family and popularity
Can be an overvalued wealth

©2025
Ken Pepiton May 28
Holy gnosis,
lust,
desire
covet
concupiscence's impulse,
I just
have had
to lieve be so, what's true,
is just your's to evaluate,
as just your call to learn.
Stuck on a notion we all know the worth of shine and heft in weigh a minute.
Breann May 21
This is the one, I whisper low,
Ink on the page with a steady glow.
My pulse is sure, my spirit proud,
I post it up, above the crowd.
Done.

Two days pass in silent scroll,
A single like—a softened toll.
My thoughts return, both sharp and terse:
Maybe this was my best… or worst.

Again I write, the spark feels dim,
The words fall out, a clumsy hymn.
I roll my eyes, ashamed to send
A piece I’d never recommend.
Done.

Two days pass—my phone alights,
The piece is trending, shared in flights.
The one I thought was shallow, weak,
Spoke truths another couldn’t speak.

The weight is held in different ways,
Some see the sun, some feel the haze.
What’s “best” is tied to where we are,
Some feel the storm, some chase the star.

So now I write with open hands,
No more demands or strict commands.
Each piece, a gift I can’t control,
May miss one heart and reach a soul.

And when I post, I don’t deride—
The worth’s not always mine to decide.
For passion’s voice, though sometimes low,
Still finds a place it’s meant to go.
You said
"It's not you,
It's me"
Maybe it was true-
I haven't had a clue
That it was for the better,
Even though it felt like a fetter.

You lifted me up,
Called me pretty-
Was it just your pity?
Then you got bored;
I've felt so ignored.

I know I've always been pretty,
Sometimes I've been too gritty,
To the little old me,
Now I know there's no price on me,
No measure of my worth-
I deserve to walk on this Earth.
30/3/25
What do you think of the phrase "It's not you, it's me"?
If someone truly wanted to be with you, would they find a way? Let's talk about it!:)
What do *you* think?
Luna Saturne May 19
As Roosevelt said,
“Comparison is the thief of joy.”
Six simple words—
struck something deep,
A truth felt,
But never named.

We measure ourselves
against strangers and friends alike,
whispering,
“I want what they have.”
And just like that,
our joy slips through the cracks.

Comparison breeds envy,
envy turns to bitterness.
“Why them? Why not me?”
we ask,
as if fairness follows longing.

But truth is—
they’re likely looking back at you,
thinking
the *******
same
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